I Will Never Give up on You
by EmerlizleCullen
Summary: Not even knowing her name, Edward follows a beautiful girl that he's determined to marry into a strip club. After learning that she's one of the dancers, he's determined to whisk her away and give her a better life. EPOV. Future lemons. R&R!
1. Prologue

**I don't own the characters, and I only vaguely own the plot. I got the idea from another book, but the exact events are of my own creation. Enjoy. Oh, and don't worry. Angel _is _Bella. You'll find out later. And Carlisle is not the head of the hospital in Vegas because he's going to come in the picture later. So are all of the other Cullens/Hales. So, please, be patient.  
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Not very many people believe in love at first sight anymore. To tell you the truth, I didn't used to be very confident in that particular theory either. The most beautiful woman could pass and a million men would be after her. That doesn't mean that she would marry all of them. Unfortunately, the instant that I began believing in the absurd idea of love at first sight, it was because of a girl just like that.

I had originally intended to come to Vegas simply to help out my uncle at his hospital. Ever since the crime rate had been going up in Vegas, beatings had been increasing and the emergency room was always crouded. After a year of living in Vegas I was used to beautiful women flaunting and parading down the streets. I never thought that a particular girl would be able to grab my attention when I was already surrounded by them.

Then I saw her.

Her chocolate hair framed her elegant face, which, while not beautiful to a magazine's standards, had it's own charm. Her boots seemed to be custom made for her perfect legs. Her clothes fit every curve of her slender body. Her strut was flashy, yet conservative as she let off the type of aura that told you that she had power. She was chatting on her motorolla cell phone, which was held to her ear by a perfectly manicured hand. I looked around and realized that I wasn't the only one staring at her.

She seemed oblivious to the looks being thrown at her. And if she did notice, it was obvious that she didn't care what people were thinking. And people were thinking alright. I could just imagine that men were undressing her in their minds. Very few women were focusing on her, which was understandable. Why would they care? Those few who were weren't exactly her best friends, though. _Their _minds were clearly coming up with ways to wipe her off of the face of the planet. I figured it was jealousy. Their husbands were staring, and everything on her body was designer, probably all the way down to the perfume that she was most likely wearing.

I didn't realize how soon I would learn the truth for their hatred.

One would think that nearly every man would drool over someone like her. Why would my caught attention mean anything more then physical desire? But watching her made me feel that the job offerings at my uncle's hospital had opened up specifically to bring me to her. Something had called me to take the job, and it wasn't just the crime rate. Something told me that while every other man only _wanted _to marry her, I was actually going to. It felt as if she had been meant for me.

So I followed her.

I followed her until we reached the last place that I had expected someone like her to go. A resort called Pair-a-Dice. Places like Pair-a-Dice were rare these days. Like most resorts in Vegas, Pair-a-Dice had the essentials: Hotel, spa, casino, restaurant, and even a gift shop. But there was also a part of Pair-a-Dice that was unusual. Unique. While some Vegas resorts did have night clubs, the one at Pair-a-Dice was different. Far from the norm.

I traced the beautiful woman's steps through the resort, praying to any god that would listen, hoping that she wasn't going where I thought she was going.

I stayed on her heels until my greatest fear was confirmed. I stopped dead as she opened the door to the Palace and walked in confidently.

The Palace was a twenty-first century version of a brothel. During the day and most of the night, the joint was just like half of the others in Vegas would be at night, where the girls would come out and dance to the arousal of men. But late nights through the early mornings, instead of going home like other dancers, they would continue their work upstairs to private paying customers. The money that they brought in as individuals went to their food, board, and expensive clothing.

That was when I understood the looks on the streets. Men who knew who she was knew what they could get from her, and those who didn't hoped for it. The women would look at girls like her and have a pretty good idea of why their husbands had come to their hotels or appartments late last night, smelling like perfume.

But why would this particular dancer draw so much attention on the streets. It's not like people remembered what every single stripper looked like the morning after they visited a club...

Hesitating, I finally found the nerve to step into the Palace.

The darkness closed around me the instant the door shut. The only illumination was coming from spotlights, some of which were filtered with colored gels. The lights were focused on the dancing women everywhere. Some were in enlarged cages, dancing while men through money at them. Others were at the traditional poles, dollar bills and chips bulging out of their minimal clothing. Others were in unlit areas giving lapdances and making out with potential customers.

I wasn't unused to this. I myself had come to a couple of night clubs my first few months in Vegas. I just never really found it that appealing. I couldn't help but think of my younger sister, Tanya, trying to dance like that to the seduction of men, offering herself to the highest bidder. It made me think of who the dancing women really were. Someone's little sister. Someone's daughter. Hell, some of them might even be someone's mother.

I scanned the club for young woman that I had followed in, but I couldn't find her. It occurred to me that, if she _was _one of the dancers here, she was probably getting ready, changing, or removing, if you wanted to call it that.

There was something special about a dancer named Angel. She got her own introduction. She was announced as if she were a main attraction. Then, Angel stepped out and I realized that it was the same, dark-haired beauty that I had followed to Pair-a-Dice.

I felt myself gagging. I could literally taste the vomit on my tongue. Not because of her appearance. God knows she wasn't ugly. Her body was exponentially exquisite when the vast majority of her clothes were off. I just found it rather distasteful. These other girls around me I could look at without giving in to the urge to throw up. But being especially drawn to her, I felt personally offended that she thought she had to reduce herself to that kind of low. I just wanted to take off my jacket and put it around her.

Watching her move from mouth to mouth on all fours on the catwalk, giving men a preview, a sample, of what they could get if they paid, it made me forget that I had ever had nightmares. This reality in front of me was equal to all of the bad dreams that I had ever had as child combined. And then some. I kept trying to wake myself up, and every time I failed I became sicker.

The only advantage to seeing her in there was that I didn't look suspicious when I tried to get a closer look. All of the men were drawn in a trance, like I was, towards this _Angel_. I saw her face clearly for the first time since I had laid eyes on her. My heart stopped.

She couldn't be any older than eighteen. She couldn't possibly have expired all other options at such a young age. She must have just graduated from high school this last Spring. Someone at her age should be in college, or working at McDonald's, or something. Which meant that she either dropped out of high school, or never thought that she had a chance at college when she graduated...

Without me noticing it, her gaze had turned to me. To the dismay of the surrounding spectators, she made her way over to me, hopping off of the catwalk.

"You look a little petrified. Got a pretty little wife at home? Feeling a little guilty?" she wondered, attempting to soothe me with her seductive tones, pressing herself against me. She stared down at my left had where no rings were to be found. "Why don't we sit down and I can help you relax?" she offered.

"I greatly appreciate your offer, but I don't think anything that you'll do will help me relax," I explained, trying to leave. I knew I looked like the dork in high school who never had a girlfriend. I could tell there was an awkward expression on my face and I knew that my discomfort showed in every backward movement I made.

"That's alright. I enjoy a challenge," she teased, coming closer, if that was possible.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I have to leave," I excused myself. But before I left, I pulled my arms out of my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "You must be cold," I told her before I walked out the door.

The brightness blinded me for a moment when I exited the Palace. And when I finally stepped outside of Pair-a-Dice altogether, the last remnants of the day were passing, the sun setting over the streets and walkways of the bustling city. The air was relaxing, and I felt like I could actually breathe out there, versus the stuffy air of the Palace.

I finally found myself at home, ordering Chinese. I was in absolutely no mood to cook. I didn't think I was in any mood to eat, either, and while I felt I shouldn't have an appetite after what I had seen, I couldn't ignore the grumbling in my stomach, realizing that I hadn't eaten since breakfast that day.

My instinct must have been a mistake. There's no way that I was called to Vegas to marry a dancer at a night club. I came out of need for a job, and to officially become a doctor. I still needed to work in my uncle's hospital for two more years. I had no need for marriage, yet. Hadn't I told myself that could wait until I had my medical license?

I tried to talk myself out of it. Doctors don't marry hookers. I used every rationalization I could think of, but the truth still lingered. Had I not followed her before I knew what she did? And no boy ever grows up dreaming that they're going to marry a whore. But girls like her deserved their own happy ending, one that doesn't include selling themselves for whatever men thought that they were worth.

I had already known what decision I would make the instant I began contemplating escape. There was no escape from nature, and I was naturally allured to her. This Angel.

I knew exactly what I was going to do when I went back to the Palace that night.


	2. Edward

I ignored all of the stares that my "co-workers" (if you could call them that) gave me as I passed throught the living quarters of the Palace.

I trudged upstairs, closing and locking the door to my room before anyone could ambush me with questions. I hung up the man's jacket on the coat-rack that the customers generally used. After all, that was what he was, a customer. A customer who didn't stay to pay the full price. I dug through my closet and found the most concealing clothes from my wardrobe. I put them on and headed downstairs for dinner.

Angela was the first one to question me.

"So, did you know that man?" she asked. Angela was really the only person at the Palace that I really considered my friend. She was the only one that been there longer than I had. All of the other dancers and prostitutes that had been there when I came had left and been replaced. I didn't know why, but somehow that seemed to cement our relationship.

"No, he just walked in, put the jacket on me and left," I explained. "It was like the only thing that he had come here to do was give it to me. Like I was his sister and I forgot something and he was bringing it to me. He didn't even want any kind of pleasure. It was weird," I recalled. As far as I could remember, no man had ever denied any favor from me, especially sexual. I had a reputation in Vegas. It was definitely different from what I was used to.

"Odd," Jessica agreed. "I wonder if there are more guys like that out there. Then maybe we can catch a little break," she dreamed. How a guy giving you a jacket constituted "getting a break," I didn't know, but I didn't even hesitate to shatter her little fantasy.

"You don't exactly want a break in this business," I reminded her. "As much as it may suck, the less we work, the less we're paid, the sooner we get kicked out of here. And even then, what are we going to do when we _do _get out of here? What else are we good at? We'll just end up doing the same thing that we're doing here, only somewhere else." _Trust me, _I wanted to add, _I know from experience._

Ever since I was eight, I knew nothing other than this life. All because of my drunken uncle, Charlie. Well, really it was more of my father's fault. If he had taken care of the mess that he had gotten himself into, AKA me, I never would have had to live with Charlie, and I never would have been sent to work for James.

I had to give Uncle Charlie credit, though. He didn't know what it was that I would end up doing, but if he wasn't so drunk maybe he would have been responsible enough to take care of me. Or he would have been sober enough to see through Laurent's lies. I knew damn well that Laurent knew what was going on, or what _would _go on. And looking back on it, any sober mind could see through those con artists.

The only reason I continued this line of work was to live. Ever since I began living with James, my life ceased to have a purpose, but for some reason, I didn't exactly feel like starving myself to death quite yet. But this was the only thing that I knew. And I was one of the few who had actually been "trained" in this profession. After all, it's not exactly an offered course in school.

I had only met my father once, and never wanted to again after the way he treated me and my mother. Luckily for me, I'd never have to deal with that little bastard again. I made sure of that a long while ago.

In a matter of time, dinner was over, and the work began.

This kind of work would be so much easier if we were in the 1800s. Back then, all men wanted was the sex. So in between men in the old brothels, the girls would only have to re-dress themselves in something like a robe.

But this was the 21st century. The era of the instant porn downloads and movies that aren't successful unless there's some sort of sex scene. The men wanted the added pleasure of ripping your clothes off in passion that realistically wouldn't exist on a one-night-stand. They were just trying to copy the passion and pleasure they see in the movies.

And all the men were the same.

"_How do you want me to be._"

"_Rough._"

I was brushing my hair after the second customer when the third walked in without knocking.

"Have you ever been here before? You're supposed to knock," I told him, not even turning to look at him. It wasn't even true. Nobody knocked anymore. I was more angry with the fact that he was early. I still had ten minutes of break before I had to start working again. I was still in only my undergarments from the last client.

"I'm sorry, miss, I didn't mean the intrusion, I'll wait outside," said a familiar voice.

Familiar voices were a foreign concept to me. You don't recognize voices in this business. Not unless that particular person stood out. Not unless they really made an impact, or did something that no one else had done. Such men as those that you talk about with your cohorts over the dinner table. The ones that you ponder on for hours.

It was the man who had given me his coat. At the Palace, you had to pay before you even got upstairs. Which meant that this man had paid for an hour of pleasure just to collect his jacket. That was rather nice. I got an hour off and was still paid for it. That was a beautiful thought.

"No, wait!" I ordered. Oddly, standing in front of him, I felt exposed. I guess it was the fact that the last time that I had seen him, I was covered with his coat. I grabbed my silk robe and covered myself so that I was wearing more than just my underwear. "Here's your jacket," I said, taking it off of the coat-rack and handing it to him.

"Thanks, but that's not what I came here for," he told me. Great. He was just like evey other man. He wanted the sex and nothing more. The jacket was just a way to soften me up. Clever. I had never dealt with a guy willing to think about how he was going to get the best out of me.

"How do you want me to be, mister?" I asked dully.

"I'm not here for that, either," he added.

_Okay, so what are you here for, idiot? _I wanted so badly to ask. Instead, I asked "Well, then. What can I do for you?"

"You can tell me your name," he told me. That was simple enough.

"Angel," I stated.

"Your real name," he clarified.

My heart stopped. No one other than myself knew my real name. Only one other person even knew that Angel wasn't my real name. And he wasn't calling me anything anytime soon. Not if I had anything to say about it. Everyone else that knew was dead. How could this strange man know anything about my name?

"We use our real names here at the Palace," I told him, and it wasn't even a lie except for my case. As far as the Palace was concerned, Angel was my real name. "And may I ask what _your_ real name is?" I asked coldly.

"Edward. Edward Masen," he answered swiftly.

"And what do you want with me?" I asked, starting to get impatient.

"I want you to marry me," I bluntly declared. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh. Wow. That's my third marriage proposal today. Three for three. And this time I didn't even have to do anything!" I said sarcasticaly.

"No, I'm serious. I can take you out of here. I work at a hospital. It's really a good paying job. I can take care of you, help you get trained for a different job..." he started. I stopped listening at "I can take you out of here."

It was Jacob all over again. Jacob, the young man who had worked in the kitchens at James's large mansion. He had seen me crying on the stairs one day and asked what was wrong. I was fourteen at the time and knew that what James had been doing was wrong. But I was naive enough to think that I could do anything about it. So I told Jacob everything.

Unlike me, Jacob wasn't that naive. He knew that if he reported James to the police, I would be the first one that James came after. So instead, he did everything he could to get me going my own way. Apparently the one thing he didn't do was be careful. It wasn't long until James found out what Jacob was trying to do and "took care" of him.

Sure James wasn't there right then. But he was searching. I knew the second I was able to escape that dreadful mansion that I would never be able to live in peace. I always knew that he was somewhere out there looking for me, and probably hiding, as well as I, thinking that I had alerted the police reporting him.

If I went with Edward, even if I wanted to, and James found me, Edward would be the one to pay. He would end up just like Jacob. I wouldn't wish that kind of end on anybody. Except maybe James himself. Correction: drop the "maybe."

"Look, I really don't have time for this, so if you don't want to be pleased, please leave so I can take the rest of the hour and rest so I can give the next customer the ride of a lifetime," I requested, trying to disgust him. Any man that denied pleasure in a Vegas dance club was definitely against the idea of prostitution. Especially if said man gives a prostitute a jacket.

"See, you don't have to do this to yourself. I can care for you, I can get you out of here and help you get trained for a better job. A job you would be proud of. A job someone like your mother would be proud of," he urged.

It was almost as if someone with an impossible amount of knowledge of my past was feeding him things to say to me to get me to want to leave with him. My mother. I remembered one day when my mother and I were living near the docks of Brooklyn. She had sat me down and told me that my life would be different. My children would be raised by two parents who loved them to no ends. I wouldn't be wondering who I was going to sleep with that night in order to feed my daughter. I was only seven at the time, but I knew that she didn't want me living near the docks when I grew up.

And now I was doing worse. And my life was the exact opposite of what my mother would have wished for me. It was worse than my mother's life.

"Please leave," I asked. I really did want him to leave. With him reminding me of my past with every word he spoke. The past that, though it was so terrible, I would rather go back to any day than to live out whatever the future had planned for me.

"I will, but I'll be back, I promise," he swore. Whether or not his promise was kept wouldn't matter. I was staying at the Palace until I was to old to do them any good, and then I would leave, taking my percentage of the money that I had made, which would be enough to live off of for quite a while with the price they had me marked for.

"Don't forget your jacket," I reminded him, mannerless. He left the door open behind him and I slammed it shut.

When I didn't come to breakfast the next morning, Angela came into my room and found me sitting on my floor, leaning against my bed. She walked over to me and slumped down beside me. Angela didn't need to fill the silence with chatter. So for a while, neither of us said nothing. Angela's presence was enough to make me momentarily forget about the previous night.

"I saw that Jacket-man came to see you last night," she brought up. I knew she meant it as small talk, but it still upset me to be reminded of the man whose promise of freedom still burned at the edges of my mind. "So, was he anything like the other men?" she wondered. I could tell she was truly curious, and trying to hide it at the same time.

"He didn't even want to be pleased at all," I told her, still in awe.

"Well then, what did he want?" she asked, not trying to mask her wonder this time.

"Oh, he was just one of those men who have nothing better to do than to torture us with the images of freedom and a life that girls like us could never dream about," I explained.

"I don't know, Angel. You've never told me where you've come from, or what you've been through, but whatever your past is like, you're too good for this place. I think you should consider it. Maybe he's not lying, whatever he told you his situation is," Angela suggested. It sounded too good to be true.

"It doesn't matter whether or not he will get me out," I said. "It doesn't matter whether or not he's telling the truth. It just doesn't matter."


	3. Return

I didn't know what it was about Edward's proposal, but it made it really hard for me to work the next day. I wasn't getting as many tips stuffed into my garments during my dancing shifts. And I was taking more breaks. I had never taken breaks before. For me it was all about making enough money to get out of the Palace, rent a shitty apartment, and find a good job.

_You idiot. Just take advantage of Edward's proposal. He'll get you out of here, train you for a better job, and then you can leave him once you have enought money, _the voice in my head kept telling me. It sounded promising. And it was what I was taught to do. Pay no attention to the feelings of men because they only want one thing. I could give Edward the one thing he wanted, and then switch the roles by doing what men do best: leave. They deserved it.

I let myself ponder the thought of living with a man long enough to make that money. How long it would take would depended on what kind of job that Edward could possibly help train me for. And then, of course, he would want me to help contribute to help with rent, food, utilities. I would have to take the extra time to save enough money to go away. And then when I _did _leave him, I would have to help pay for the divorce. On the upside, he would probably have a better job than I would, and he would have to pay me alimony for spousal support. A nice big fat paycheck once a month without even having to take my clothes off for anyone anymore.

Later that evening, during my last dancing shift before the "real" fun, I saw Edward slip through the entrance. Obviously my little problem wasn't just going to go away. He was going to be worse than that annoying bunny on the television that we were rarely allowed to watch. Only instead of "going and going and going...," Edward kept "coming and coming and coming..."

I hopped down from the catwalk, eager to approach and question Edward. Why would he want to even think about marrying someone like me? Anyone with as high of a position as Edward would be ruined by marrying someone like me. Not to mention that it would make the vast majority of professionals look bad. _If that serious man is married to that whore, I wonder what all the other professional men in the country are married to?_

The little voice in my head kept trying to reassure me that as long as I ditched the slutty clothes, get more casual things, not display myself as much, nobody would know who I was. No one would know that Edward was married to some whore from the Palace at Pair-a-Dice. It wasn't like we were in a small town where even the little kids know who the hookers are. People came and went all the time. Only consistent customers and tourists really knew who I was. The tourists would eventually leave and the regulars pretty much never left the club.

I needed psychiatric help. The voice in my head was making sense. I needed medication just for the fact that it was talking to me.

As soon as I was on the ground, though, I lost sight of him. A couple of times, I saw his head pop above the crowd, but couldn't keep an eye on him long enough to follow him, let alone ask him what I was doing there. Not even with my three-inch-heeled boots could I get enough height to see over some of these men.

I figured, though, if he was there, then he would come to my room again that night.

I was getting ready for my bed shift when I heard the knock on the door. I knew it was him. Most men just let themselves in, demanding their money's worth. I wasn't that cheap. Even those that did knock didn't knock as quietly as that. It was a polite knock.

It surprised me that Edward would care enough to remember my simple request: to knock.

But despite the kindness and respect that Edward took the effort to put forth, I threw the door open.

"Okay, look, what do you want? Do you want me all to yourself so that you don't have to pay for favors, or do you just want to see a whore struggle in the workforce? Which is it because men like you sometimes piss me off thinking that you're the only one trying to get me out of here. And you make a big show out of making it all about 'helping me,'" I ranted. "It's not about me, is it? It's something about your desire, yet slightly empty wallet. You can't afford to pay for me every night. You don't want to have to pay. Or you just don't want anyone else to touch me. Because you're territorial. I'm a piece of property that you don't even own. Or you want an ego boost by rescuing a hooker from her sad little life, or something. It's never about helping me."

Edward gently pushed me back so that he could step inside. When he was on the other side of the doorway, he shut the door behind him.

"I really don't know what I see in you," Edward admitted, a shameful look in his eyes. "And it's true that, as much money as I may have, I can't afford to come see you every night. I also don't want any other man touching you because I know that they don't really care about you."

"And you do? Care for me, I mean," I clarified. "Because, correct me if I'm wrong, but you know nothing about me. You don't know where I've come from. You don't know where I've been. You don't know anything about who I am except for the fact that I'm an expensive whore. You don't know what kind of life I had, or even who I am when I'm not working. How could you possibly care enough - after only getting to know me enough to hand me a jacket and tell me that I must be cold - to marry me? Where's the urgency? How does that show that you care for me more than every other guy who proposes to me after only one night?"

"Because I didn't have to sleep with you first," Edward explained. It would have been touching if it had been a while before he had asked. Actually taking the time to get to know me, without me giving away the only thing that I truly had. Spending his money to talk and listen. Someone like Edward had to be willing to listen. But it still seemed out of order. Propose first and then get to know me. It didn't seem as endearing.

"But why the rush?" I asked. "Why ask me so soon?"

By this point, I had found myself pacing, with every lap, getting closer to my bed. Eventually I sat down on it, not wanting to walk anymore. Edward sighed, and unexpectedly sat down next to me.

"Because I want to get you out of here as soon as I can," he assured me in a soft, gentle voice. "I don't want you to have to spend a single day more than you have to here. I want you to be able live freely, with more control over how people treat you. And I want that to happen with me by your side."

All that you could hear for at least five minutes was just the sound of our breathing. If thinking had a noise, it would be really loud because there was a lot going on in my head. It still didn't make any sense. Why me? Why not Angela? Why not Jessica? They were all pretty screwed up girls. Sure, I may have been the worst out of all of them, but nobody really knew that except for me. Everyone else just thought that I was naturally talented at the art of love-making. No one knew how messed up I truly was.

"I've lived in Vegas for a while now. I'm used to women like you parading the streets, I've pretty much grown accustomed to beautiful women. But you pretty much called to me," he explained. I wanted to laugh. This sounded like the real proposal. Only he still hadn't gotten that far on the "getting to know me" scale. His words sounded like some life-altering story pieced together into a speech. "You didn't call to me in a way that said 'look at me, I'm the most expensive hooker in Vegas.' When I looked at you I saw the woman that I was going to marry. A woman that had talent in more areas than just the bedroom."

"But, don't lie, you know you can't wait for that part," I accused.

"Actually, I can wait forever for that part," he admitted. "I just want you to realize that I know you're worth more than that. Too valuable for a price tag. It's not that I think you wouldn't be pleasurable. It's not like I would be able to tell the difference."

"Are you trying to tell me that you've never been with a woman? Ever?" I was astounded that Edward would even hint at that. He wasn't nearly middle-aged. Mid-twenties at the most. But while he wasn't exactly old, considering his age, it would be unexpected for him to be...innocent.

"Never," Edward confirmed. "Not that I've never had the chance. Let's just say I wasn't the least popular guy throughout my life. All the way through med school I have had tons of opportunities. But I've always been so focused on my career that I didn't want to get into some mess with getting some girl pregnant and having to give up med school so that I could help take care of a child. I've had my priorities," he explained. At least men with brains did exist. "And I'm making it perfectly clear that you're not going to derail me anytime soon."

"And I'm making it perfectly clear that I'm never going to marry you," I threw back at him. "Look, I'm not going to give you what you want, so just tell me what I can do to make you leave with a smile on my face. That is, after all, my job."

"Look me in the eye and say my name."

It was an odd request, but my job was to give them what they wanted, with the exception of marriage. Because marriage excludes (or should exclude) sleeping with random men every night. And business was always down when we were searching for replacements.

"Edward Masen," I replied as seductively as I could. Which was, not to brag, but very well accomplished.

It worked. Edward seized my face and pulled me towards him until our lips met.

Within seconds, Edward was on top of me, pinning me to the bed. But, while all of this was so familiar, it was different at the same time. I was used to the movement of two bodies connecting in every way. Though, when Edward's tongue traced my bottom lip, chills went down my spine and I pulled his jacket off before holding him tighter to me. Wanting more for some unknown reason, I hitched my thigh on his hip.

Edward all of a sudden jumped off of me with a grunt of frustration. In the same, quick motion, he stormed to the other side of the room and began pacing.

"Wow. You really haven't been with a woman have you?" I had to ask again, though the answer was clear in his anxiety.

"I'm in the process of trying to convince you to marry me. Do you really think that I would lie to you? That wouldn't exactly earn me brownie points, now would it?" he rambled. After taking a moment to gather himself, he walked back over to the bed and sat on the edge, placing a hand gently on my knee. "But I _do _want you. Just not in that way, yet. I want to do this right and marry you first."

"You're time is up," I said kindly, not knowing if it really was. He stood and picked up his jacket off of the floor before walking to the door.

"Then I will respect you and leave. Because I know how to respect you. I know how a man should treat you, unlike the men that you serve here. I know how to leave when I'm asked."

And the door was closed behind him.


	4. The Last Chance

**AN: Sorry about the wait. Writer's block is a bitch, along with computer crashes, both of which have occurred in my situation. So I tried to make this the BEST chapter so far. Not like that ever isn't my goal, but I tried to make this one extra special just for you guys to make up for my sluggish pace at writing this.

* * *

**Edward didn't come back for weeks, but there was no way I could forget him.

While other men were busy getting their pleasure from me, I thought of him. I thought of his hip under my thigh, his tongue over my lips, they way that our bodies moved together for that small moment, before Edward suddenly became contrite again. Whenever I thought of him I always forgot that some other man was inside me. Instead I truly believed it was Edward thrusting hard and his hands were the ones groping whatever they could find. It somehow made my job bearable, and it apparently made my performance better.

When I imagined these things, it made it easy to think of marrying Edward, even if it was just for sex. That little sneak peak that he accidentally gave me during his last visit made the thought of sleeping with him intoxicating. When I was finally allowed the luxury of sleep, I dreamed of sharing his bed. I wanted his lips to cover every inch of my body, his hands to trace my frame gently, in the soft, kind way that he did everything else. I wanted to just be able to sit there and be pleased for a change, the way I knew I could be if Edward ever wanted to. But obviously he didn't, seeing as he still hadn't returned.

My heart would skip a beat if a man knocked gently on the door, and a small piece of me would die a little when I opened it to find someone other than Edward. I found myself cleaning myself up more after every customer, making myself extra seductive for the next man to walk through the door, just hoping that it would be him. I wouldn't have even minded if the next time I had seen him was during dancing hours and all that he did was give me his jacket again.

Even when I was eating with the other Pair-a-Dice employees, I was thinking about what Edward might be able to prepare for me if I ever took up his offer. When I got a tip I could only think about all of the other ways that I could make money. It became an obsession.

Then it started getting dangerous. Less tips were left on my vanity at times, because I would call out Edward's name during sex. And if word ever got back to Victoria, I was fucked.

Victoria was the owner of the whole joint. She got the vast majority of the profits made from the entire Pair-a-Dice resort, not just the whore house. She got profits from the casinos, the hotel, the spa. All of it. She was especially fond of her little whore house. She made sure all the prostitutes that worked at Pair-a-Dice went through a monthly check-up to make sure that we weren't contaminating the customers with infections that would harm the resort's reputation. Not like having a whore house didn't do that already. She was the one who decided when you were too old to do her any good, who to hire, all of it. And if she knew that I had called a customer another man's name, she would think that it had something to do with love, and I might run away from her. And she'd fire me before I even had the chance to quit.

Then I saw him again. During the dancing hours. I was giving a strong, muscular man a lap dance, and just happened to look over his shoulder at the right moment. Or maybe Edward had just been standing there waiting for me to look at him. I still don't know. All that I cared about was that the moment that I looked up, he was there. Not more than twenty feet away from me.

Suddenly, I found my promiscuity shameful. I had to force myself to continue being seductive, refusing to look into my customer's eyes. When his five minute dance was over, I gave the man my most flirtatious smile to top it off, and pushed through the crowd towards Edward. I knew that he would object the instant I tried, but I pushed him into a seat and straddled him anyway, beginning to dance. I leaned into him and began to whisper into his ear.

"Whatever you do don't freak out. I needed to talk to you without being conspicuous," I quickly told him, trying my best to make it look like seductive whispering to any other passerby.

"Fine then, I'll see you again tonight, pay full price and everything. We'll talk then, I promise. You just have to stop doing this to me," he begged.

"Why? Am I turning you on?" I asked teasingly, already feeling the answer underneath me.

"Yes. Happy?" he replied coldly, slowly getting up from under me.

"Tip me super fast," I ordered hurriedly.

"Why?" he inquired.

"Because I'll look bad if it looks like you're turning my services down," I explained, still pretending to seduce him, avoiding suspicion.

"Good, maybe when you're fired, you'll come to your senses and marry me," he retaliated. He was smarter than I gave him credit for.

"Look the more time you waste, the worse I'll look and if you cost me my job there's no way in hell that I'll even consider marrying you," I threatened. That got his attention. He dug in his pocket for his wallet and slipped a fifty in my top before walking away.

* * *

I was restless the rest of the night. While generally in my profession, that's not always a bad thing, it was that night. I was very distracted and I hoped, more than usual, that the next man through the door would be Edward.

He was torturing me. That's all that there was to it. He was doing it on purpose so that I'd get all worked up and excited that I would just be so elated when he finally came.

And he did, just as promised.

I couldn't think why for a second that I ever confused other mens' soft knocks for his. I knew it was him from the first tap that he rapped on the door. I pulled myself together. After all, I couldn't have him actually thinking that I looked forward to his visits. That wouldn't really play into the whole "I don't want to marry you" argument. I had to pretend like I didn't want to tear his clothes off. I needed to make him think that his last visit had absolutely no impact on me.

But I couldn't help the smile when I opened the door. It kept spreading until I could feel it wrap around my face.

"You wanted to - " he began.

"Shhh..." I quickly interrupted, pulling him by his shirt into the room. When the door was safely closed behind him, I explained. "You may not think that they would care what you're coming in here to do, as long as you pay, but they care. If I'm not doing my job, I'm out of here. So outside of this room, we don't 'talk' unless it looks like we're doing other things, too. Got it?" Edward nodded in acknowledgment.

"What did you want to discuss?" he wondered, making himself comfortable, sitting on the bed.

"Why the long absence?" I asked him.

"Why? Did you miss me?" Edward teased.

_Yes. _"No. It was actually nice for a change. No one was nagging me about the guy that kept showing up, the guy who had given me his jacket one night. And there was something else...oh yeah. No one was asking me to marry them. Well, they were, but they weren't as persistent. I could actually take pride in the fact that they were proposing to me simply for the fact that it meant that I was doing my job right."

"You could take pride in the fact that they wanted to marry you because they had an orgasm?" he slammed.

Okay. I no longer missed him.

"For your information, most men have multiple orgasms when they're with me. But wait, you wouldn't know that because you still have your innocence. You're not exactly helping your cause here. If you don't like my profession, don't marry me. It's as simple as that. You're welcome to leave whenever you wish," I informed him.

I stood there, leaning against the door, waiting for him to respond. It seemed odd that for once, Edward had nothing to say. He would generally defend himself with some bullshit that he really didn't care that I was a prostitute, he could make my life better, and probably throw in some corny nonsense about how just having me for a wife would be better than all the orgasms in the world, even though he obviously never had one...

He finally stood up, slowly walking toward me. He put his hands on the door, one on either side of me, closing me in.

"I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy with what you do because lying won't get me anywhere. But I do still want to marry you," he confessed.

"Then why the sudden disappearance?"

"Because obviously the daily approach was getting me nowhere and you just got angry. I figured I'd give you time to let it sink in," Edward explained.

"You only tried the daily approach for two days," I reminded him.

"And I almost forgot my priorities thanks to you. Right now my interest isn't sleeping with you. It's getting you the hell out of here as soon as I can. Does this feel like deja vu to do you? Because I feel like I've explained this all to you...I needed to let you think about it and make sure I kept my priorities straight," he justified.

"Well you'd better figure out which approach you're going to take. I like a consistent man. But fair warning. If you ever do convince me to marry you, you might want a really good lawyer. Divorce court is going to be hell," I warned.

"And who said that I would ever divorce you?"

"I did. You don't know me. And if you're _so_ determined to marry before you get to know me, you're in for a huge surprise. I'm not a mail-order bride. I have baggage up to Wazoo. Baggage that you can't even imagine. I don't think you could handle me. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. Or...trying to get yourself into. You don't want someone like me. Take Jessica. Or Angela, you'd like Angela. But not me...you don't deserve someone like me."

"Is this one of those moments where someone tries to save someone they love from making a terrible mistake?" Edward wondered, not hiding his implications.

"No. I don't love you. But you're a generous, accomplished man. Like you said, you have your priorities. You're not just a man desperate for marriage, which is all that I would deserve. You have your heart in a good place. You shouldn't waste it on me," I clarified. Edward raised his hand and stroked my cheek gently.

"It wouldn't be a waste," he declared. "Whatever you think is wrong with you, you didn't start out that way. I'll find whoever you were. Something about you intrigues me and I just can't let it go. I've told you, I don't know why, but I love you. But do you want to know something that I haven't told you? I followed you here. I didn't know who or what you were until I was already determined to marry you. And when I found out how you make your living, I still wanted you. Nothing that you've done, nothing that's happened to you is going to change that. And one day, yes, I want to make love with you, but only when it's that, when for you it's not just a job, but love."

It took me a second to gather my words. How can a mere whore think up something more poetic than what should have been a flattering speech.

"I'll never be in love with you," I told him.

I could see the hurt in his eyes the instant the word "never" left my lips. For a moment, he wouldn't look at me. But when his eyes met mine again, he backed away. His backward steps were slow and regretful, but they didn't lack confidence.

"I'll leave you to your work then. After all, that does seem to be what you want, now, doesn't it?" he asked painfully, before gently moving me aside to open the door. "I congratulate whatever lucky bastard manages to win your heart."

"That's right. Because I deserve a bastard," I replied angrily.

The door closed behind him. I slid down the wall and let the tears come as I realized what I passed up. Whether or not I loved him, I knew that, had I taken Edward's offer, he never would have left me. I would have a safe home, food, a more respectable job, and a husband who, no matter what I did, would always try to find the young girl inside me, abandoned at eight years old. The one that deserved someone like him. I knew I would have been taken care of. And I had let him walk away.

For good.


	5. Attempted Escape

**I know, I know it's been FOREVER. I'm not going to try to make excuses because excuses are lame and the truth is really that I kind of forgot about my stories for a while. That's what senior year of high school does to you. Anyway, I promise the next chapter won't take nearly so long or else this story will never get done...  
**

* * *

I stood a whole three feet tall, clutching my teddy bear with one hand, staring in awe at the amazing room around me.

My new home.

A man who would later introduce himself by the name of Laurent came down the stairs to show me to my new room. He even piggy-backed me up the stairs. Uncle Charlie wasn't that bad after all. Seemed to me like he had found me a decent place to live. With decent people around me. My mother would be smiling down on me right now. Her little girl was going to be safe.

My bedroom was huge, full of every toy I could imagine and a huge bed. A young woman in professional attire was waiting for me near a desk by my window. She introduced herself as Renee, my tutor, and looked at me with pity. But it was a pity I'd never seen before. I was used to the pitiful looks when people saw me walking down the street with my uncle Charlie, when people realized I must be an orphan, left with a drunken - well-meaning, yet clueless - uncle to live in poverty for the rest of my life.

That was not the pity that this woman was expressing.

"Now, dear, I'm going to let you know right now that I'm going to have to teach you things that you should not be learning at such an age. But if you don't show...'improvements' in a particular subject that I am required to teach you, we'll both be in a serious fix. I'm apologizing ahead of time," Renee explained to me.

"You mean you'll get fired if I don't get straight A's?" I asked in naivety.

"Kind of. Only much worse. For both of us." Renee then took my hand and walked me up some more stairs to my new guardian's office...which was - like the rest of the house - huge. There was even a couch.

My guardian explained how discipline worked in his household. If I did what he told me to do, I would get new toys and would get to wander around the house as I please. But if I didn't follow his orders, I would be punished and locked in my room, which had it's own bathroom. And my meals would be brought up to me so I wouldn't have a need to leave the room.

I thought I understood. But when I turned to Renee to possibly get a glance of reassurance from Renee meaning that she would help me follow his instructions, she was gone. And the door was closed behind her. I suddenly became frightened.

"Now, your uncle didn't tell Laurent much about you. I didn't even get a name..." I knew this was an open-ended statement, intended for me to give an answer. "That's alright. I'll call you Angel. You can call me James when you get your mouth back," he permitted before covering my mouth with duct tape.

* * *

I awoke upright and sweating. With a tolerance level of 0.

I couldn't help but feel more sorry for Renee than she had ever felt for me. Even though she had known what I had been dropped into before I did, her job was so much worse. She had to personally close and lock the door behind me, trapping me with the man we both knew was a monster. She had to endure it before I had...and she had never escaped. She was forced to teach me how to make a man happy by moving your body a certain way. And if I didn't deliver, I knew something terrible would happen to the both of us.

I had managed to get away. Not without risks. Not without loss. But I never had to teach an eight-year-old girl maneuvers that would please a man. I never had to hide James' secret from authorities, risking getting killed or worse. Yes, James was worse than death.

I had to do something that would make my mother proud. Make Renee proud. Neither of them would have wanted this for me. My mother who even prostituted herself so that I could have a few dolls and some food and a place to sleep. Renee, who had hoped that James would never find another little girl to them what he had done to her. When I had first stepped into the mansion I had thought my mother would be proud as she looked down. I knew now that she was screaming at me to run. To get the hell away before I ever met James. And wherever Renee ended up, she would be very disappointed if she heard of a hooker named Angel, living with the only life she knew. Renee had always told me that I was strong. That if anyone was going to escape James, it would have been me. And while that was true, and I tried, I _did_ try to find other means of living, I slipped. And was back where James had put me: Sleeping with men simply to survive.

My nightmare had come at my most vulnerable time. Faced with proposals, and a man who promised himself to me forever, I was already contemplating leaving somehow. I didn't think that I could ever leave without Edward. Not emotionally, but plausibly. I didn't know how to escape Victoria anymore than I had known to escape James, at least not without losing someone else that I cared about.

But I had to try. For my mother. For Renee. They hadn't raised me to give up. They raised me to attack my monsters, or at least not to succumb to them.

So I made myself presentable and headed towards Victoria's office. One deep breath later and I was knocking on her door.

"Come in," called her shrill, cat-like voice.

I turned the handle and slowly approached her desk where she was planning specials for the spas. _The Blackjack combo: _21 spa treatments for you alone, or for you to share with your new spouse that you just eloped with or some shit like that. She liked to combine her offers in one attraction of her resort with flashy names from the others. Sometimes sleeping with one of her girls put you in a drawing to win free chips to use at the casino. It promoted all attractions and was overall better for business.

"Hello, Angel, my darling starlet. What can I do for you, dear?" she wondered in her feign sweetness.

"I want out." I demanded.

"Well we both know that's not going to happen," she snapped.

"And why can't I just take my money and go. I know you have half of it stashed away for you. You pay our taxes with it and spend the rest. Well I'm not going to stand for it anymore. I'm just about ready to make something of myself and I'm going to need my money to do it," I declared.

"Angel, sweetheart. I don't think you understand the politics of this business. So let me spell it out for you. I have the power. Go to the police saying that I stole your money? They come to me and I just claim that you're a crackhead whore who just wants a payday for your latest fix. They come around sniffing for prostitution, I make the place look like a charitable situation where my dancers can stay and the extra money comes from tips left from customers because that's how great our customer service is. You try to get a job anywhere in Las Vegas, I call around, make sure every job opening in the city willing to take any employee with no...reputable work experience knows your name and previous occupation, blackballing you from any opportunity that flies your way. Who do you think people will believe? You, a hooker lost in the social security system who I pulled off the streets? Or me, a highly successful business woman?"

"Who do _you _think people will believe? A self-made doctor with morals or ethics? Or a cheating bitch hiding behind lies and an ever-booming sex industry?" I threatened.

"What the hell doctor do you know who would be willing to do favors for you?" Victoria interrogated.

"A client. How wants to marry me. Who can give me more than you've even been hiding from me. He's willing to do whatever it takes to get me out of here," I proudly mentioned.

"You're not done here until I'm through with you. If that is all that you came to discuss, you're dismissed."

I spun on my heel in fury and headed back to the door. But sitting beside the doorway was my perfect opportunity: An espresso machine and a dozen glass mugs waiting to be filled with fresh brewed coffee. I grabbed one by the handle and threw it towards Victoria. It crashed against the wall behind her head.

"Have you lost your mind?" she growled.

"Yes. Long before I met you. But you know what? I'm slowly getting it back. I don't need you. I don't need this whorehouse. And I don't need my money to make something of myself!" I stated before storming out the door. I ran. Harder than I ever had before. I ran towards the exit of Pair-a-Dice. I knew Victoria was not going to let me get away. Lauren was the last one to attempt escape, and after what Riley did to her, she wasn't able to work anymore. She lived somewhere on a floor above us, provided food and shelter so the police never had to know what happened to her.

And I knew Victoria would be sending Riley after me. I didn't know if Victoria was going to risk leaving me disabled, losing her tons of money, but I knew I wouldn't get away clean.

If only I could get out to the busy streets of Vegas and just disappear. Promise some sexual favor to a cabbie if he gave me a free ride somewhere. To the hospital maybe...even if I married Edward just for safety, though I knew he would marry me for love, I would be way safer than if I went to the cops or an abused woman's shelter.

I was nearly there. The sunlight pouring through the windows called to me.

And then a splitting pain from my head as Riley grabbed my hair, pulling me back to the Palace. I felt myself losing consciousness as fear got a hold of me. The world turned black.


	6. Free

**A/N: Sorry about the wait. I guess I just kinda ignored my stories for a while. But I got a bunch of people adding this to their update list, so I figured they probably wanted another chapter. Short and sweet, but I promise the next one will be longer...should I ever get to it...Normal disclaimers, blah, blah, blah.**

* * *

I didn't dare to wake up. Or at least show a signal of my consciousness. Every time I had opened my eyes, Riley had been waiting to give me more of what I asked for. I had lost count of how many nights this has happened. I guess Victoria would rather lose hundreds of dollars a night than have her business taken away from her. It made sense the more I thought about it - not that I could really think clearly with my head pounding. I had been naive to believe that I would be able to walk by the end of my endeavors with Victoria.

This time, pretending to be asleep was so much easier: I was in far too much pain to move, and my eyes were swollen shut.

I held on to this fantasy that I created the other night after Riley had given me his best.

_In his haste to fulfill his purpose, to receive his next commission from Victoria, Riley forgets to pull the shutters. I fight him back as he tries to have his way with me. It's been like this every night. A rape before beating, for what good is a whore when she's too sore to move? But he discovers that he's done too much damage now for that, and blames me for his lack of sexual pleasure. I prepare myself for the worst of beatings yet. It doesn't take a rocket science or a doctor to know that Riley's sex drive will make him that much more aggressive._

_Doctor. Oh, if only Edward hadn't given up. If only tonight he would come to Pair-a-Dice, planning on paying the fees just to come up and talk to me. And when Victoria told him I was on sick leave he would just know. The way he always does. The way he knows what to say to make me want to leave with him. He would run up the stairs to my bed chamber, my screams of pain making him climb the stairwell faster. He catches Riley in the act and pulls him off of me. He takes me in his arms and runs me out of my personal hell, promising me that he'll make everything alright._

_Now that a civilian knows Victoria's dirty little secret, she doesn't try to stop him. People are more likely to notice when a doctor shows up at a hospital bleeding from holes that don't naturally exist in a healthy young man. And an investigation will last longer for a missing or dead man of the community than it would for a missing hooker. She lets him leave for hopes that in trade for allowing him to carry me out the door, he won't alert authorities. _

I feel a wet cloth lightly brush my forehead where a huge bump has taken residence. I slightly shudder at the pain of my injury and the chill of the cloth.

"Forgive me," says an all too familiar voice and my heart skips a beat.

"Edward..." I whisper, barely audible. But Edward hears, and I can hear his smile when he whispers these encouraging words to me:

"It's me. I'm here. You're free. It's over." The words lull me back to a deep sleep.

* * *

In his haste to fulfill his purpose, to receive his next commission from Victoria, Riley forgets to pull the shutters. Outside, Edward is gaping into Angel's window, hoping that seeing her love other men would help convince him that she's just a whore, and he'll be better without her. She doesn't want him, anyway.

He watches a struggle. It's just an act, he tells himself, role-playing. He wants the assault fantasy. A wife who won't succumb begging him for mercy as he forces himself on her.

Edward's eyes burn as the man pulls Angel's robe open. He doesn't want to watch, but he hopes it'll spring a hatred for Angel. He prays he will hate her for willingly let other men touch her with their selfish desires when she knows that there's better. Even if she doesn't find what she wants in him, there must be others like him, who would love her for her, and she would learn to love for him.

The violent man pushes Angel on to the bed. After unzipping his pants, he takes both of her wrists in one monstrous hand, and holds them above her head. His other hand gropes as he begins to thrust. Edward shifts his focus to Angels face. He can't bring himself to watch the man execute his selfish longing.

It's Angel's eyes that give her away. The tears. The real tears. This is no role. Angel's scream is the last straw. He ran up the stairs to Angel's bed chamber, her screams of pain making him climb the stairwell faster. He catches Riley in the act and pulls him off of Angel, taking her in his arms and running her out of her personal hell, promising her that he'll make everything alright.

* * *

I felt a gentle hand stroking my face. My eyelids fluttered, but were still unable to open.

"Edward..." I sighed. I felt his breath as he drew his face closer. The hand that was once stroking my face now cupped it in a gentle hold.

"I'm here," he repeats, as if afraid that in my sleep I've forgotten.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" I asked in an exhausted whisper.

"I got away with a broken rip and a black eye, but I'm fine. The rib made it a bit difficult to carry you out, but don't think I let that slow me down. When I got here I didn't even let anyone look at it until they got you settled and started helping you," he assured me.

"Here? They?" I wondered, wishing I could open my eyes to see my surroundings.

"You're in the ICU. I brought you here right away. And I haven't left."

"I wish I could see you. Or really anything but darkness," I complained. Even as I said it I was ashamed. Here I was, alive. Breathing. Healing. Safe. Free. And I wanted more.

Rather than pointing out my selfishness, Edward took my hands in his and brought them up to his face.

"You can see me. Think of my face. Remember it. It's no different now, only a bit of an interesting color on one side. I don't want you to see that part, anyway."

I tried to pull his face towards me. I was too weak to actually accomplish anything, but Edward felt my effort and came closer. He stopped a few inches a way from my face, or so it felt with where my hands were. I tried to pull him closer, so Edward followed.

"Kiss me," I requested.

Edward's lips brushed mine lightly at first. Though I had wanted it, I wasn't quite expecting his following kiss to be as deep. Edward managed to be gentle and passionate at the same time, holding back just enough to keep me comfortable. Well, as comfortable as one can be with their heart pounding as mine was. His hands released mine. He carefully held my face to his, making my job easier. Our tongues found each other and moved together for a few precious moments until Edward found the will to back away.

"Marry me," he begged. "Not because I saved you. Not because I have money. Not because I can give you a better life. Because you love me. Marry me because you love me. Please?"

"Yes," I answered. Edward took my face again and gently kissed me again. And again. And again.

Because he saved me. Because he could give me a better life. Because he was the first man who gave a damn. And for these reasons I loved him.


End file.
